Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Tiny’s gaze moved to the girls, then back to me. “I like hearing them laugh.” He hesitated, then asked, “How are you settling in?”
“We’re OK.” The automatic response, practiced over years of deflecting concern. Then, surprising myself, I added, “Better than I expected, actually. It’s been a long time since any of us slept without… without worrying.”
He nodded, his beard shifting slightly with the movement. The intricate braiding was really cool, despite how the thick beard gave him a wild appearance. Everything about him seemed to exist in that contradiction. Intimidating, yet careful, massive, yet gentle.
“How’d you find this place?” he asked, the question casual but his eyes watchful.
I glanced at the girls, making sure they were absorbed in their building before answering. “A lawyer. She works with domestic violence cases. She called ahead for me when I told her we needed to leave immediately.” I picked at the edge of my sleeve, worrying at a loose thread. “We took four different buses to get here. I was afraid he’d track the car.”
“Smart,” Tiny said, and the simple approval in his voice shouldn’t have mattered, but somehow it did.
“Not smart enough,” I whispered, almost to myself. “I waited too long. Almost too long.”
Silence stretched between us, broken only by the soft sound of cards sliding against each other as the girls worked. The tower rose slowly, precarious but determined, much like my own resolve had been that day we fled.
“I had a backpack for us ready to run. I just hadn’t been pushed to make the leap.” I found myself spilling my story, the words flowing out like water through a crack in a dam. “I’d been saving cash for months, hiding it in the attic. Two hundred and sixty-seven dollars to start a new life.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Ridiculous, right? But it was that or… or…”
“Or stay and be hurt?” Tiny finished quietly. “It’s never ridiculous to survive.”
I looked up at him, really looked, taking in the weathered lines around his eyes, the tattoos visible at the edges of his shirt sleeves, the way he held himself with a controlled stillness that spoke of hard-won discipline.
“I heard him on the phone,” I said, my voice dropping so low I wasn’t sure he could hear me. “My husband. He was going to…” The words caught in my throat, nearly choking me. I swallowed hard, my eyes automatically seeking Zelda, reassuring myself she was still there, still safe. “He owed someone money. A lot of money, I think. And he was going to pay them with…” I couldn’t finish, my voice breaking on the unspoken horror.
Tiny went utterly still. Not the relaxed stillness from before, but something dangerous, contained. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath his beard. His massive hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening before he deliberately, consciously relaxed them finger by finger.
“With Zelda,” he said, the words flat, a statement rather than a question. “He was going to give her away. To settle a debt.” His voice was controlled, too controlled, like something wild trapped behind steel bars. His eyes, when they met mine, burned with a quiet fury that should have frightened me, but somehow didn’t.
I nodded, unable to speak past the knot in my throat. “How did you know it was her and not Kira?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Because Zelda probably fought him. Maybe not physically, but I doubt she took his direction easily. If I was an asshole who thought he could do whatever he wanted, I wouldn’t get rid of the girl who didn’t cause me problems.”
The silence that followed was electric, charged with an understanding that needed no words. I saw in his face, in the careful way he contained his rage, a reflection of my own desperate need to protect my daughters. Different circumstances, different demons, but the same essential truth. Some things were worth any sacrifice to prevent.
“He’ll never touch her,” Tiny said finally, each word precise and heavy with promise. “Either of them. You have my word on that.”
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how desperately I’d needed to hear those words. Not just empty reassurances that things would be OK, but a concrete promise from someone who clearly had the will and means to keep it.
“Tiny!” Zelda’s voice broke the moment. “We need your help. It’s getting too tall for us to reach.”
He glanced at me, something unspoken passing between us before he nodded once. Then, with the same careful deliberation I’d seen earlier, he lowered himself back to the floor, joining my daughters at their card tower.
“What do you need me to do?” he asked Zelda, his focus entirely on her now.
“Hold these steady while I add the next layer,” she instructed, already trusting him with this delicate task.
I watched as his enormous hands hovered, steady now, no tremor betraying him as he supported the fragile structure my daughters had built. For the first time in years, something loosened in my chest. The feeling didn’t completely let me go, but enough to draw a full breath without the constant pressure of fear.